


I Can Be Your Lost Boy

by Squeegee_Beckenheim



Series: A One Shot a Month [7]
Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Blow Jobs, Depression, Hand Jobs, I Don't Even Know, Lost Boys, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mermaids, Peter Pan AU, Sad with a Happy Ending, it's complicated... - Freeform, patrick stump is a pixie, well kind of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeegee_Beckenheim/pseuds/Squeegee_Beckenheim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey was a lost boy who never wanted to grow up and his childhood hero can make that dream come true, but at what cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Will Never Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is in chapters but my laptop broke so I haven't finished it and I don't know when I'll be able to upload the next bit because my life a little screwed right now. So sorry, I hope you still like it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think happy thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'd by the amazing [hollymarionn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hollymarionn/pseuds/hollymarionn) aka my sister and also she gave me tonnes of ideas, well, basically the entire ending of the story. So thanks for that!

“ _To die would be an awfully big adventure,” Gerard whispered, his face shadowed by the dim light of the torch in his hand, cast down upon the book in his lap._

“ _Adven-choo!” Mikey replied with a shout, raising a fist in the air and almost punching the roof of their fort built of his older brother’s sheets._

“ _Shh, Mikes! The pirates will hear you!” Gerard hushed, placing a single pudgy finger over Mikey’s grinning lips._

“ _Oh… adven-choo,” Mikey repeated, this time in a hoarse whisper._

_Gerard giggled, exposing the gap between his front teeth where his mother had told him his ‘grown up teeth’ would grow before she had tucked them into bed that night. He had simply poked his tongue through the gap with a cheeky grin and sang ‘I Will Never Grow Up’ as Mikey clapped along to the beat._

“ _No you won’t, you will always be my little boys,” his mother replied with a huff of laughter and a shake of her head, “Now off to bed, you two.”_

 

~

 

“Dinner’s ready!” Called Mrs. Way from the kitchen down the hall to her youngest son’s bedroom.

Mikey sighed, rolling onto his chest to burying his face into his pillow and sighed again.

“Michael, sweetie. Dinner’s on the table.” His mother’s voice was closer this time, having opened the door to Mikey’s room with a soft click.

Yellow light from the hallway flooded into the dark room, the shadow of his mother cast across the floor and reaching over one wall.The smell of roasted meat made Mikey’s stomach growl, the sound echoing through his empty gut and Mikey winced.

“I’m not hungry,” he huffed into the soft fabric and feathered down and he could hear his mother sigh.

“Not again, Michael. You need to eat.” Her voice broke slightly.

“Or what?” Mikey grumbled, turning his head to stare at the wall opposite to him.

“You’ll never grow up to be a healthy boy, you’ll fade away to a shadow,” his mom remarked, a motherly tone in her voice that made Mikey ache with guilt.

“I already am,” Mikey breathed, turning his face back down into his pillow and closing his eyes to stop the burning feeling behind them. The pillow didn’t smell like it used to.

His mother sighed again, hovering by the door for a moment longer before Mikey heard footsteps pad slowly away.

“I’ll leave you a plate in the fridge if you change your mind,” her voice bounced off the walls and into the darkness of the Mikey’s room, before fading into silence save for the calming tick of the old alligator clock that sat on Mikey’s bedside table.

After he lost count of the ticks somewhere near the mid three thousand mark, Mikey sat up and perched on the side of his bed, fighting down the horrible feeling of the world spinning and tilting from low blood sugar levels. He stood and stumbled over to the large bay window that was the only source of light in the dull room when the door was closed, the bright light of the moon piecing through the thin white curtains to flood the room in a blue glow. Mikey unlatched the simple hook clasp and shoved the separate window frames apart, letting in a stiff, cool breeze that caught at the curtains, Mikey’s messy, unkempt hair and at loose papers scattered around the untidy room. Clothes, books, comics and sketches lay strewn across the hardwood floor, a slight path visible that lead between the unmade bed and the small bathroom off the side of the room.

The room was furnished with an overflowing chest of drawers, every drawer open and spewing clothes, and an empty wardrobe, all of it’s original content spread across every visible surface, mostly the bed in the opposite corner to his. The bed that had once belonged to him, but he had moved to the opposite side of the room about five years ago. The walls, painted with faded baby blue, were dotted with white shelves with childish toys such as chipped wooden swords and paper pirate hats. Beside his clock on the nightstand lay a battered book, the cover open to show the title, ‘Peter Pan’, printed is bold letters. The top right hand corner was decorated with his mother’s handwriting in slightly smudged blue pen, stating ‘Happy 1st  Birthday, Gerard.’ On a bookshelf on the wall above the open book stood a copy of every spin off book or movie adaptation of the same story, the more loved ones looking worse for wear from years of bedtime readings.

Although Mikey was almost seventeen years old, he kept every piece of his brother’s collection that he left for him, and Mikey made sure to never go a week without re-reading a story or two or re-watching a movie or three. His father disapproved of this childish obsession, blaming it as to the reason that Mikey didn't have friends. For the most part, it was true. He had been bullied all through his primary years, beaten and told he was different, that he needed to grow up, that there was no such thing as fairies, mermaids and flying pirate ships. By the time he got to high school, Mikey had given up trying to make friends, finding being alone and invisible more comforting then being the punching bag of every jock who wanted to prove his masculinity. So that’s how Mikey had spent his days, alone in his room, sketching bloodthirsty pirates and pixies and lost boys, trying to remember what his brother had taught him about lines and shades. But it had been so long ago that when he had tried one evening to draw his older brother as a grubby faced boy, hanging from the branch of the sleeping tree, he couldn't remember his face.

His mother and father had taken down all photos of Gerard the night they told Mikey that his older brother wasn't coming home, tears streaming down his mother's face, her voice cracked and raw. Mikey had sat by the door all night, waiting for his older sibling to return to read him the next chapter of the story, where Hook and Pan have an epic sword fight that ends with Hook being eaten by the ticking gator and Peter rescuing Wendy from the evil pirates. He could read it himself, he was eleven and top of his English class, especially for creative writing, but he could never voice the characters like Gerard did, his brother over dramatising every line. He had fallen asleep on the cold floor in the doorway, clutching the book to his chest and had woken up the next morning in his own bed in his own room. When Mikey had noticed Gerard’s empty bed he had been confused at first, his brother always waking after him. It had taken a minute or two to remember, but it came back with a rush of emotion and Mikey crossed the room and snuggled deep into his brother’s sheets that smelt so strong and familiar. He had cried himself back to sleep that morning and his parents hadn't come in to wake him up.

When Mikey had bad dreams, Gerard wasn't there to hold him close and sing ‘When You’re Alone’ until Mikey felt brave enough to close his eyes again. When Mikey got in trouble, Gerard wasn't there to tell him that they would run away to Neverland together, where there were no stinky parents and no rules and no bedtimes, only adventure and magic and trees to climb. And whenever Mikey watched Hook, Gerard wasn't there to shout every line and hold his crying brother in his arms when Rufio died. Gerard had been Mikey’s best and only friend as a child and if Mikey had to grow up, he had wanted to grow up to be just like Gerard. Now Mikey couldn't even recall what his face had looked like, the only solid memory was the voice in his head whenever he read a Pan book and how his laughter had sounded, loud and childish and full of so much happiness. It hurt Mikey to think that that laugh was the last thing Gerard had been doing before the driver had swerved off the road and driven onto the footpath. The police had called it a ‘hit and run’ and Mikey couldn't understand why the driver hadn't stopped, hadn't gotten out to check if Gerard was alright. Mikey didn't understand why his brother never came home.

 

~

 

It was just after midnight when Mikey crept downstairs, hoping to avoid his parents as he retrieved the plate of now cold meat and steamed vegetables from the fridge. This plan was foiled when he noticed the dull light and soft voices drifting out of the living room doorway, his mother’s gentle sobs and his father’s soothing voice. Mikey paused by the door to listen, invisible in the darkened hall, although his stomach protested the change of route from the kitchen.

“I’ll call the doctor tomorrow and get him to talk some sense into the boy. He’s just lonely, he spends all his time in his room. I've barely seen him for several months now. I’m just as worried as you are,” Mikey’s father’s voice reassured and he heard his mother sniffle.

“He always had trouble growing up, and after… well,” there was a short pause and his mother sniffed again, “he just got a little lost.”

“I still think boarding school is the best option, he’ll be surround with boys his age, he’ll make friends and stop skipping classes.”

“No, he’s too young, he won’t be able to look after himself,” his mother protested but her husband just scoffed.

“He’s in his second last year at school, he’s practically finished. He’s grown up enough to take care of himself.”

“Well, obviously not or we wouldn't be having this conversation. He’s not eating, barely sleeps and rarely talks. He needs help, Donald. I don’t want to lose our son. Not again,” Mikey’s mother sobbed and Mikey’s chest tightened. Suddenly, he didn't feel hungry anymore.

He turned around and run up stairs as silently as possible before he could hear anymore. He ran into his bathroom, retching over the toilet, but he couldn't bring up anything, having not eaten all day. He knelt on the cold tiled floor, head resting against the wall and breathing heavily, head pounding. He summoned the strength to pull himself to his feet in front of the basin, seeing his pale face reflected in the mirror. 

The bags under his eyes were dark and ugly and his face looked even thinner than the last time he had looked in his mirror, although he couldn't remember how long it had been since he had. His brown hair was tangled and matted, falling over his eyes, impairing his eyesight as much as the smudged fingerprints on his glasses did. 

Running a wet hand over his face and through his hair, Mikey decided he just needed to sleep. Maybe for a day or two, then he’d feel better again, for a while. Just maybe. He open the cabinet behind the mirror and retrieved the bottle of sleeping pills he’d stolen from his parents room about a month ago. He poured out a handful and swallowed one at a time, then poured out another handful, just in case. His parent’s words seeped into his thoughts, his father wanting to send him away, his mother afraid he was too fragile to handle himself. Mikey clenched the rim of the basin until his knuckles were as white as the ceramic.

“I don’t want to grow up,” he breathed, looking at his own reflection, his brown eyes glassy with tears.

“I don’t want to grow up,” he repeated, then again, then again. Over and over he pleaded, like trying summon a ghost in a mirror, tears that glittered in the dim moonlight spilling down his soft cheeks. He stopped, out of breath and stepped back, raising his hand, watching his faint shadow match his every movement. He sighed, shaking his head violently, but the shadow followed suit, tailing him out of the bathroom and coming to rest next to him as he slumped in defeat onto his bed.

“Why are you still there?” He asked his shadow, but his shadow said nothing. Shadows don’t talk.

Mikey pulled his covers over his head, tears still refusing to stop from gracing over his cheeks and down his neck, onto his pillow, leaving small dark circles.

“I don’t want to grow up,” he sobbed one last time, wiping his eyes before closing them for the night.

 

~

 

He was awoken again only a few hours later to more soft crying, but this time it was not his own, nor his mothers. When Mikey opened his blurry eyes to investigate the alien noise, he was met with a small boy, around his age sitting crossed legged on the floor, his head in his hands and straight black fringe hiding his face.

“Hello?” Mikey asked, his voice sounding too loud though it was nothing more than a whisper.

The boy seemed shocked by the sudden noise, jumping to his feet and wiping his eyes, like he was trying to hide the fact that he had been crying, but his eyes were red and puffy and the moonlight twinkled off of the tears still trapped inside them.

“Hello,” the boy replied, brushing a hand over his knotted hair to get it out of his face. The strands fell back down the instant he removed his hand.

“Why are you crying?” Mikey whispered, scrambling from under his covers to perch on the edge of the bed, grabbing his glasses of the bedside table and leaning in to examine the boy.

He had large, dark eyes and tanned skin, or maybe it was just dirty. His hair stuck up in bizarre directions, his clothes were grubby and torn and his arms were covered in scars. If Mikey hadn't have had this dream countless times before, he would have thought he was a bum off the street. Something was different this time round though, the boy looked different than any other version Mikey had imagined and there was something else off that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“I wasn't. I've never cried in my life,” the newcomer huffed defiantly, placing his hands on his hips and standing up straight.

“Sure,” Mikey drawled sarcastically. Everyone cries. It’s just a thing that people do.

“It’s true!” The boy shouted, taking several steps forward until his face was uncomfortably close to Mikey’s. “My name is-”

“Peter Pan?” Mikey cut in before the boy could finish.

Confusion flashed over the youth’s face but Mikey simply smiled, gesturing towards the open book on his nightstand with a tilt of the head.

“I wait for you every night,” Mikey breathed, as the boy picked up the book, hands tracing over the drawing of himself on the front cover, or the version Mikey usually dreamed of.

“You believe everything you read in books?” Pan said with an amused look over his shoulder.

“Only if they’re written about you,” Mikey nodded.

“Why?” Peter whined, screwing up his face.

“I… I don’t know. My brother really loved these books. They’re all I have left to remember him,” Mikey mumbled, looking down at his own bare feet and picking anxiously at a loose threat in his sheet.

“Oh?” Peter raised an eyebrow but Mikey sighed and the boy seemed to get the hint, placing the hardcover back down carefully.

There was an extended silence, marked only by the tick of the gator clock, broken finally by Mikey sighing.

“So, I only have a little while before I wake up, what are we going to do this time? Exploring caves? Fighting pirates?”

“Wake up?” Pan asked, whirling around, confusion back on his pretty face.

“Yes?” Mikey asked back, confused look mirroring Peter’s. He only sometimes had lucid dreams and every time he did, everyone he encountered would know that they were just a figment of Mikey’s subconscious.

“What’s your name?” Peter blurted randomly, stepping again into Mikey’s personal space.

“Mikey Way. Well technically Michael Way, but only my mom calls me that,” Mikey rambled, feeling nervous under the boy’s gaze.

“Well, Mikey Way, my name is Pete, technically Peter Pan but only Captain Hook calls me that and have I got news for you,” Pete smiled, but there was something sad behind his eyes.

Before Mikey could question Pete on his secretiveness, he was being tugged onto the balcony.

“Fly away with me and I’ll explain. You can’t stay here. The sun’s almost up,” Pete remarked, pulling open a pouch that hung around the waist of his shredded red jeans and emptying the contents over Mikey’s head, coating him with a shimmery gold powder that seemed to glow with it’s own light.

“This is-”

“Pixie dust. You think happy thoughts and bam, you’re defying gravity. I know how it goes,” Mikey exhaled, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck, I don’t think I like you, Mr Mikey. You take all the fun out of my job,” Pete grumbled, grabbing Mikey by the lapels and hauling into the air, Mikey feeling suddenly weightless as he watched his bare feet leave the ground.

“Now, happy thoughts,” Pete interrupted Mikey as he marvelled over how much more beautiful the city light were in this dream, how good the wind felt whipping against his face and through his faded pyjamas, consisting of an old Joy Division shirt that had belonged to Gerard just before he left and a threadbare pair of women’s cut flannelette pants in dark blue, dotted with the smiling cartoon face of Disney’s Peter Pan.

Mikey was about to make a questioning noise when the air was ripped from his lungs as Pete opened his hand and let Mikey fall, hurdling at an alarming rate towards the sleepy streets of the city below. Just as Mikey shut his eyes, preparing for the pain of impact, the warm hand found it’s mark again and yanked Mikey back up, away from the waiting asphalt.

Mikey turned and grabbed hold of Pete around the waist, screaming like a sissy, much to the airborne asshole’s delight.

“Happy thoughts,” Pete repeated, smiling down at Mikey but only received a small shake of the head and a sad look. Pete’s smile fell and so did they, slowly descending down into a little empty park on the outskirts of town where the sand was growing weeds and one of the swings was broken.

“You do have happy thoughts, don’t you?” He asked Mikey, placing him down on the cold metal of the roundabout, which squeaked and groaned with age.

Mikey didn't say anything, just looked down at his bare feet that dangled in the air as he perched on the bar and shook his head.

“Aww come on, Mikeyway, when’s the last time you laughed?” Pete poked, sitting crossed legged on thin air in front of Mikey.

“I… I don’t know,” Mikey shrugged, he honestly couldn't remember.

“You said you have a brother?” Pete asked, his hand on his chin, looking quizzical and cute.

“Had. A dead one, yeah,” Mikey huffed, feeling the familiar stab of pain he felt when he talked about Gerard.

“Oh…” Breathed Pete, floating slowly down to stand next to Mikey, leaning against the bar and kicking his foot into the ground to make the roundabout spin lazily with a low grinding noise.

“Yeah,” Mikey replied, looking up at the sky. It was clear and dark and endless but they were too close the city for the stars to be bright. Mikey wondered if Gerard was up there somewhere.

“Well, do you at least have some happy memories from before then?” Pete questioned.

Mikey could feel Pete hand gently rest on Mikey’s lower back. Mikey flinched but Pete didn't even notice, looking up in the sky, his gaze not searching like Mikey’s had been. His hand felt warm and… Mikey couldn't quite describe it, electric maybe. Or maybe Mikey had gone so long without being touched that he’d forgotten. Either way, it felt good and Mikey just wanted to curl up around this mysterious floating boy and go back to sleep. Could you even sleep in a dream?

“Um… he used to read your stories to me. He voiced each character and acted out each scene. Our mother used to come in and tell us to go to sleep because we were being too loud,” Mikey retold, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lip.

“Do you remember what the voices sounded like? Act it out for me!” Pete insisted, tugging at the hem of Mikey’s shirt.

“I don’t know… he could do it so much better,” Mikey looked away, sightly flushed.

“No, I want to hear _you_!” Pete insisted again, tugging harder and Mikey gave in.

“’ _Fling the girl overboard_!’” Mikey boomed suddenly in his best Hook voice, which was loud and deep. He thrusting a fist in the air as though brandishing an invisible sword above his head.

Pete looked shocked at first, mouth hanging open before stretching into a smile that seemed too big for his face, eyes crinkling shut as he erupted into giggles.

“’ _None can save you now, Missy!’”_ Mikey continued, this time in a thick, croaky voice that Gerard had used for Mullins.

Pete jeered and stuck out his tongue between fits of laughter.

“’ _There’s one,’”_ Mikey changed voice suddenly, pitching his voice slightly higher, to sound like a child and Pete gasped, covering his mouth with his hands, his eyes wide.

“’ _Who’s that?’”_ Mikey drawled out in his pirate voice again, although it was hard to do when his mouth refused to stop quirking up and his chested ached with the need to laugh.

Pete pointed at himself and mouthed ‘ _me?’_ and Mikey nodded, a huff of laughter escaping his smiling lips.

“’ _Peter Pan the avenger!’”_ Mikey shouted, waving a hand in front of him pretending to rip of a cloak just like in the story.

“Is that really want you think I sound like?” Pete wheezed, laughing so hard he’d floated off the ground and was now hanging upside down in mid air, “That’s awful!”

“Hey!” Mikey squeaked, punching Pete hard enough to send him tumbling through the air.

“Hey yourself!” Pete yelled, stopping himself from spinning by pushing off of the slide and heading straight for Mikey, arms outstretched and mischief in his eyes.

Mikey squealed like a five year old and jumped off the bar of the roundabout, but once he had jumped up he couldn't come back down, hanging in the air, squealing more. Pete tackled him mid air, collecting Mikey’s thin frame up in a bear hug.

“Bangarang! You did it!” He sung, squishing the life out of Mikey.

“I did!” Mikey gasped, his cheeks aching from smiling and he pushed his way out of Pete’s death grip, attempting to do a somersault in the air, but getting stuck half way through, hovering above the ground with his ankles almost up to his ears.

“Hey, take it easy, buddy! It’s harder than it looks,” Pete laughed, floating over to untangle the Mikey-pretzel.

“It seemed so much easier in the movies,” Mikey pouted.

“Kid, you gotta stop believing in cartoons!” Pete sighed, shaking his head, wrapping a hand around Mikey’s bicep and pulling them back into the sky.

From this height Mikey could name consolations in the city lights, the sky and ground almost indistinguishable from one another.

“But you’re real, aren't you?” Mikey asked, looking over at Pete as they soared through the endless inky sky, that was starting to lighten in the east.

“Yeah, but that’s different…” Huffed Pete.

“Hypocrite,” Mikey smirked.

“Snot face,” Pete shot back, poking his tongue out before squeezing lightly on Mikey’s arm.

“Here we go!” Pete yelled, quickening his pace and zooming towards a bright star ahead of them. The second star to the right.

 

~

 

Within a blink of Mikey’s eyes, the horizon changed from the emptiness of the dark atmosphere of space to a fog of clouds that choked Mikey’s vision. Mikey had been told as a child that clouds were just tiny water molecules, but as the tendrils of mist brushed past Mikey’s bare arms and face, they were soft as toy stuffing and tickled him. Mikey snorted with laughter, which only resulted in him sucking the clouds into his nose. The tickle from the soft vapour made Mikey sneeze violently, jerking Pete and Mikey backwards and blowing an almighty hole in the clouds, sending puffs of white scattering across a blue sky.

“Bless you,” Pete laughed, as Mikey rubbed at his nose and sniffed, “sorry, I should have warned you, the clouds are a little friendly here.”

Pete pulled Mikey down through the rest of the cloud cover, revealing a sight that made Mikey’s heart clench with joy, no matter how many times he’d seen it in the books or on the screen. Neverland lay before the pair, more colourful and clear than Mikey had ever dreamed it. It smelt of ocean and summer days and fairy dust, or maybe the latter was just Pete and himself. As they flew, Pete dipped low over the ocean and Mikey dunked his hand into the perfectly blue sea, feeling the cold, wet water gush between his outstretched fingers. They weaved their way through a pirate village on the shore, the locals shooting and yelling as Pete ducked and dived expertly, carrying a slightly scared Mikey along.

The pirates had terrified Mikey as a child. He had grown out of that childish fear, but now Mikey was seriously reconsidering.

Once free of the bustle of the town they soared over thick jungle forest, scaring birds of every colour of the rainbow from the branches below. Suddenly, they broke free of the canopy of leave to find themselves over desert sand, then snow fields of ice and endless white, then rocky mountain ranges winding up to a tree. No, it wasn't just _a_ tree, it was _the_ tree. Towering over the landscape was a pine tree that had to be at least 300 feet tall, each branch linked and connected with ladders and bridges and ropes.

As they approached, Pete cupped his hands around his mouth and let out an ear piercing rooster crow, scaring more birds of paradise into the sky. They landed in an alcove at the base of the tree, the ground littered with toys, weapons and other fun things. Mikey turned to Pete, a question on the tip of his tongue, maybe it was “where are we?” or “where is everyone?” or “weren't you going to explain something earlier?” when he got slightly side tracked by the sound of multiple howled crows erupting from what sounded like a place under the tree and half a dozen teenage boys scurried out from under foliage covered trap doors, forming a muddled group in front of the duo.

“Boys, meet my newest recruit, Michael. Michael, meet my lost boys,” Pete beamed, gesturing over the sea of grubby faces and cheeky grins.

“Hello,” they all chimed back in chorus, eyes as wide as their smiles.

“H-Hi,” Mikey mumbled timidly, giving a small wave.

Meeting the lost boys was always one of Mikey’s favourite moments in his dreams, not quite his absolute favourite, but it was up there. Although, like Peter, the boys looked different than usual, though if you asked Mikey, he wouldn't be able to tell you why he thought that. Something just seemed really… off this time round. But this was pushed to the back of Mikey’s mind as he was ushered out of the bright sunshine down into the cavern under the tree, roots and rocks making the walls and carved wooden stools dotted over the dirt floor.

In the middle of the opening was a table set out with dented metal dishes, tarnished knives and bent forks. The boys got busy loading the centre of the table with large steaming pots and loaded platters of every food Mikey had ever seen before each taking their seat, all yelling and laughing as they did. Mikey took the empty chair between Pete and a tall, tanned boy who called himself Gabe. Each boy around the table introduced themselves to Mikey before the meal began, each standing up in turn and announcing their names and what they liked. Mikey paid attention, though he found it hard to remember each name and face, until a dark haired boy at the end of the table stood, climbing onto his stool for extra height as he dramatically spoke.

“I am Gee, the best story teller in all of Neverland. I once saved little Frankie here from the terrible ticking beast by reading it a bedtime story until it passed out!” The boy exclaimed, waving his hands around and gesturing to the small tattooed teenager beside him, who insisted that he “totally had it covered, he wouldn't have gotten eaten, it was fine”.

This caused Gee to erupt into laughter that was loud and childish and full of so much happiness. Mikey felt his heart stop at the sound, his mouth went dry and his throat closed in on itself.

“Gerard?” Mikey breathed, only just loud enough to be audible, but it was enough. Gee stopped dead, wide eyes meeting Mikey’s.

“How do you know my full name? No one has called me that in forever,” Gee squeaked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Gerard,” Mikey said again, because that seemed to be all that he could say, before passing out.

 


	2. To Die Would Be An Awfully Big Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bangarang!

When Mikey came to, he expected to find himself back in his own cosy bed at home, snuggled under his blankets that no longer smelt of his brother. Instead, he found himself laying in a dark nook of stone, lit only by a glowing lantern hung from a root jutting out of the wall. Stricken with confusion and panic brought on by drowsiness, Mikey fumbled for his glasses but couldn’t find them, his fuzzy vision only able to depict the makeshift bed he was laid upon, made of rags, leaves and moss.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice toned from somewhere, slightly muffled and sounded far away. Mikey's head was still as blurry as his vision and he felt as though he was made of cotton, or he was underwater. Mikey watched as the blurred flickering light from the lantern started moving, flying free of the glass chamber and towards Mikey.

“You’re glasses are over here, Pete wanted me to put them somewhere safe when he carried you in last night,” the unrecognisable voice continued, sounding small and following the glowing ball of light as it zipped around and unhooked Mikey’s glasses from the root beside the lantern, dropping them into Mikey’s lap.

Mikey slid on his glasses, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the room before looking up at the only source of light and letting out a choked noise. In front of Mikey, so close that he almost had to go cross-eyed to see, was Tinkerbell. Well, who Mikey presumed would be Tinkerbell if it weren’t for the fact that the pixie before him, staring with curious eyes behind thick rimmed glasses, was a male. He was tiny, less than six inches tall and had a bird’s nest of thick, blonde hair that stuck out beneath a miniature black elf hat. His clothes looked as though they were tailored from orange autumn leaves.

“Hello,” he spoke with a tiny wave and a shy smile, “I’m Patrick. Pete asked me to look after you while you slept.”

“Hey. Uh, thanks, I guess,” Mikey stammered, staring at the pixie's boyish face and sweet smile, before trying to stand. The world tilted violently and Mikey fell back down, feeling queasy.

“Oh shoot, don't try to get up, just rest there. I'll go get Pete,” Patrick insisted, before zipping away, leaving a golden dust trail behind him.

While he was gone, Mikey closed his eyes, willing the sickening feeling to leave.

“Mikes?” Pete's voice said suddenly and Mikey slowly opened his eyes.

Pete stood at the door of the makeshift room, which was covered with a leafy curtain. He held a glass of water and a plate of fruit in his hands and a concerned expression on his face that made him look older, but only slightly. Behind him stood someone else, who was wearing a matching expression on his cherub face, his muddy green eyes wide and oh god, Mikey remembers now.

“Mikey,” Gerard breathed, taking a cautious step forwards.

Hearing Gerard's voice say his name made Mikey's chest tighten painfully and Mikey's vision blurred with tears. He let out a shuddering sob without his own permission and Gerard's face looked heart-breakingly hurt, closing the gap between him and his kid brother, wrapping Mikey up in his warm arms. Gerard smelt of damp earth during rain and fairy dust but under that was that smell, _his_ smell. Since Mikey's sheets had lost his brother's scent, Mikey had forgotten it but as he buried his face in the crook of his lost brother's neck, it came rushing back and Mikey didn't know what to do but cry. After a forgotten moment of time, Mikey pulled his head up, looking straight at the face that time had made his mind forget.

“I missed you,” he choked out, studying every inch of Gerard's face, which was stained with tears.

“Ditto, Mikeyway,” Gerard sighed, squeezing Mikey's arms gently, “what in the world are you doing here?” He asked sadly, more as a rhetorical question than anything.

“What do you mean? What are _you_ doing here? You're meant to be dead!” Mikey shouted back, his mind exploding with questions but all he wanted to do was stay in his brother's arms forever.

“Uh,” Pete, who had sat on the floor beside the bed while Mikey wasn't looking, interrupted, “we'll explain later. For now, you should rest and then we'll go and have some fun.”

Gerard looked reluctantly at Pete but nodded sadly after a while.

“Yeah, it's a bit of a long and... complicated story. We want you to be happy and ready before you hear it,” Gerard explained.

This just added more questions to Mikey's already aching head but he agreed.

 

~

 

Mikey soon lost track of the days he spent in Neverland. Every morning he would wake up, confused to find himself in a hammock in a tree, several hundred feet off the ground instead of in his own bed in his dark room back in New Jersey.

Each day the boys would whisk him off somewhere for a new adventure, Gerard most of all. Mikey had had to save his reckless brother from death (again) multiple times, like from Hook's plank suspended about the ocean's crashing waves or from the clutches of a cheeky mermaid called Lindsey, who found great delight in trying to drown any Lost Boy who ventured too close to the lagoon's edge.

At night, they would all trek down the mountain to the Indians' camp and listen to their chief tell stories and play music, some of the boys joining in to sing, some content just to watch and clap along.

Mikey and Pete would sit and watch as Gerard would lead the boys in Peter Pan songs, Patrick perched on his shoulder, a tiny shell megaphone to amplify his golden voice. Gabe and Frank appeared to be doing some interpretive dance that just made them look like idiots and two more boys, Brendon and Ryan, were providing harmonies whilst doing the cancan.

Mikey's cheeks ached from smiling and his chest pained from laughter. He wished he could stop time and live in this moment forever. He looked over at Pete, who sat with his side pressed to Mikey's. He was laughing and it sounded like wind chimes and crashing waves, his smile stretched wide across his cheeks, which were pink from the heat of the flickering bonfire. He looked so beautiful, his dark eyes sparkling with joy in the firelight and Mikey's heart felt too big for his chest, his stomach bursting with butterflies. He dropped his head onto Pete's shoulder, watching as Patrick narrowly avoided being crushed as Frank attempted to climb onto Gerard's shoulders. Mikey felt Pete's head rest gently upon his own, Pete's hand moving to tap the beat of whatever song Brendon was now leading, against Mikey's thigh. They stayed like that until the fire burnt to coals and Mikey's fell asleep against Pete, feeling happier than he could ever remember.

 

~

 

Days later, or maybe weeks, Mikey was awoken in the early hours of the morning when the cloudless sky still stretched dark above them, to find Pete's face an inch from his, looking down at him with a cheeky grin. Mikey squealed and rolled, overbalancing his hammock and tumbling out, Pete only just managing to catch him before he collided head first into a sleeping Gabe on the bed several feet below.

“Christ, Pete! What the fuck?!” Mikey wailed quietly, clutching at Pete's neck as he carried him on his back through the air.

Pete just giggled and mocked Mikey's 'girly' scream before crash landing in the soft sand of an empty beach on the northern shores of the island. Pete helped Mikey brush the sand out of his hair before gesturing for Mikey to follow him further up the shoreline.

“Where are we going?” Mikey asked, keeping in step with the dark haired boy.

“I couldn't sleep, so I made you a surprise,” Pete entrusted, leading them under the remains of a jetty, now only a skeleton of rotting wood.

“Tad-ah!” Pete sang, flinging his hands towards a lit spot just ahead.

Mikey couldn't help but laugh as he approached what appeared to be two chairs made entirely of sculptured sand, which where encircled by jarred lightning bugs to provide a soft golden glow.

“You woke me up for this?” Mikey squeaked but Pete just pouted playfully and blew a raspberry.

“Fuck you! It took me two hours to collect enough fire flies! And this isn't the whole surprise, dipshit,” Pete huffed, plonking himself down in the sand chair on the right. Mikey joined him, raising an eyebrow at his companion.

“No? So you brought me out here to stare at the ocean then?”

“Well, sort of,” Pete shrugged, “just wait. It'll be here soon.”

Mikey threw one last sceptical look at Pete before shrugging and turning back to the tide. The night sky reflected off the almost perfectly still water and the far off horizon was invisible in the darkness. It almost looked as though the stars had fallen into the sea and space itself was lapping gently against the white sand. A soft breeze carried the smell of sea salt and Pete past Mikey and he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and feeling weightless. His eyes were forced back open moments later by Pete suddenly grabbing his hand.

“Look!” He whispered, pointing out over the ocean.

The sky, which had just seconds before been filled with nothing but inky black and twinkling constellations, was now lit up with vibrant greens, blues and whites, cutting through the darkness in shimmering lines. They danced across the sky, the mirroring ocean now alive with colour. Mikey gasped as he watched the ghostly lights march along the skyline and when he turned his head, he saw that Pete was watching him, instead of turning his face towards the alien lights. Mikey watched as the light faded as fast as it had appeared, in the reflection of Pete's dark eyes.

“Why are you looking at me? You missed it,” Mikey breathed, his heart pounding. He was overly aware of Pete's hand still lightly clasping his own.

“I've seen the lights a million times. There are far more beautiful things in Neverland,” Pete shrugged, biting his lip.

“Like?” Mikey asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“You,” Pete replied simply, his voice as soft as the breeze.

Mikey's heart couldn't decide whether to beat as hard as humanly possible or stop beating all together, but it decided on the latter when suddenly Pete's soft lips were on Mikey's own, warm as the summer sun and just as light. He didn't move, just stayed stooped forwards with his lips pressed to Mikey's, waiting for Mikey to react, to push him away or pull him closer. Once the initial shock wore off, Mikey relaxed, pushing forwards and kissing back, his hands finding Pete's hair and back.

He'd never been kissed before and he felt panicked and frantic but Pete set the speed, just smoothly sliding his soft lips against Mikey's, adding gentle nips and licks every now and then that make Mikey hum again Pete's lips, eyes fluttering shut. Mikey became more confident has the make out session progressed and as he felt Pete's tongue dart out to lick across Mikey's bottom lip, he parted them slightly and slipped his own tongue out, pushing it against Pete's. This new sensation mixed with Pete's quiet moaning quietly into Mikey's mouth sent shivers down Mikey that went straight to his crotch and oh god, that wasn't helping get rid of Mikey's semi that was growing, _fast._ Before Mikey could do anything about it, Pete was pushing his tongue into Mikey's mouth, the slick slide made Mikey's stomach drop more than flying ever did and he pulled on the back of Pete's shirt, urging him closer.

Pete obeyed instantly, shifting until he was straddling Mikey's lap. As Pete pushed forwards, Mikey lost all concentration when he felt how hard Pete was against his stomach. He hissed, grabbing Pete's shoulders and pushing him down slightly as he bucked up, the friction leaving them both gasping.

“Fuck, Mikey,” Pete panted, smiling down at Mikey, who was looking up at him with wide brown eyes and dilated pupils. Pete reached down between them and brushed lightly across the front of Mikey' pants. Mikey squirmed and bucked so violently, the back of the sandy chair crumpled, leaving Mikey on his back in the sand with a giggling Pete on top of him, his hand still palming Mikey's cock. He slipped a finger into the waistband of Mikey's pants, nodding slightly.

“Can I...?” He started and Mikey nodded so fast , he sent sand flying.

Mikey arched his back, letting Pete slip off his shirt and pull down his pants just enough to free Mikey's trapped erection. For a second, he didn't move, just studied Mikey below him, flushed and panting, his hair unruly and his glasses slightly wonky.

“You're beautiful, Mikeyway,” he breathed, leaning down to claim Mikey's mouth.

His hand again found it's way down Mikey's flat chest and thin hips onto Mikey's dick, and without the barrier of clothing, his strokes left Mikey bucking and moaning. Pete's mouth moved from Mikey's own and found the soft skin on his neck and along his collarbone. It was a matter of seconds before Mikey was coming across his own chest and into Pete's hand as it stroked up this shaft and across the head. Mikey swore and hissed out Pete's name, arching his hips as bright sparks danced behind Mikey's eyelids.

Pete watched with blown pupils as Mikey regained control of himself, face burning.

“Shit, I-” Mikey rasped, but he was cut off by a rough kiss, and he was overly aware that Pete was still painfully hard and pressing against Mikey's sticky lower belly.

“Do you want me to... um,” Mikey stammered, pulling away, his eyes flicking down Pete's form.

“Please,” Pete pleaded, pulling Mikey closer and palming himself.

Without a second thought, Mikey was up and fixing his pants back across his thin hips before pulling Pete to his feet and leading him back down the beach.

“Wha-?” Was all Pete managed to get out before Mikey pushed him violently against one of the wooden pier poles, his body pinning Pete there.

“Yes, _fuck_ yes!” Pete hissed as Mikey's lips made their way down Pete's neck before dropping to his knees in front of Pete.

He made swift work of Pete's buckle but as Pete's bare cock lay inches from Mikey's nose, he hesitated.

“I, uh, I've never, um...” Mikey stuttered, looking up at Pete, his expression matching that of a startled baby deer.

“It's okay. I'll talk you through it if you want,” Pete suggested breathlessly and Mikey lit up, nodding with a nervous smile.

Pete grinned back and slid a hand into Mikey's sandy hair.

“Ready?” Pete asked and Mikey nodded again, taking another second to lick his lips before leaning forwards and slipping them over the head of Pete's cock. Pete hissed and bucked up slowly, pushing Mikey's head lightly forwards to set a slow pace, although Pete was achingly hard in Mikey's mouth.

“Fuck... just like that,” Pete moaned and Mikey watched in amusement as Pete's knees buckled, and as Mikey flicked and stroked along Pete's length with his tongue, Pete had to drop his free hand onto Mikey's shoulder to stop himself from collapsing into the sand.

“Jesus, Mikey. Do that again,” Pete slurred out, his eyes squeezed shut and his head pressed against the hard wood post. Mikey obeyed, swirling his tongue around the tip before pushing himself all the way down again, gagging slightly.

“Oh fuck, Mikey. I'm going to... _fuck!_ ” Pete gasped out and Mikey felt panic rise and wash over him. Was he meant to pull off? Or spit? Or swallow?

Suddenly, Pete was coming, filling Mikey's mouth with bitter semen. To stop himself from choking, Mikey swallowed instinctively over Pete's cock, only a little bit dribbling down his chin.

He pulled off, his jaw aching but had no time to recover when Pete was pulling hum to his feet by his hair, capturing him in a hot kiss and licking his own mess off Mikey's chin.

“That was fucking amazing. _You're_ fucking amazing,” Pete breathed into his ear, his flushed body pressed against Mikey's.

Mikey tried to reply but whatever he had begun to say was drowned out by a yawn, the adrenaline from his orgasm worn off, and Pete smiled.

“Come on, sleepyhead, let's get you home. It's way past your bed time,” Pete laughed softly, doing himself back up before scooping up Mikey and his discarded shirt that had lain forgotten in the sand, before taking flight, homeward bound.

Once back at the tree, Pete placed a sleepy Mikey down, tucking him under his blanket and sliding off the smudged spectacles off Mikey's face and hanging them carefully on a nearby, low hanging branch.

“Goodnight, Mikeyway,” he whispered, kissing Mikey's swollen lips, then his forehead gently, “Sweet dreams.”

 

~

 

Mikey awoke the next morning feeling more alive than he ever remembered feeling, greeting the boys at breakfast with a bright smile. He even offered to help clear up afterwards, collecting up bowls and spoons that had held Brendon's delicious wild berry porridge, and carried them out to the washing station, which consisted of a large stone basin filled with fresh ground water from the cave pool. He was half way through the large stack of dishes when muffled, raised voices from deeper underground distracted him and he walked away, leaving the task unfinished. He crept down rickety root stairs to deep beneath the tree, where he found Pete and Gerard standing in the middle of a small storage room, arguing.

“You have to tell him! Before it's too late! He still has a choice!” Gerard shouted, looking so hurt and angry, his cheeks wet from tears.

“He's going to choose here anyway! He was so alone and miserable before and he's finally happy here. He's with you!” Pete growled back, his eyes burning holes in Gerard.

“No, he's with _you!_ I know how you look at each other! Don't deny him his choice just because you can't let him go! He's not like you!” Gerard snapped back.

“That has nothing to do with this!”

“That has everything to do with this and you know it!” Gerard snarled, “I will not let some sulky little fairytale boy stop my only brother from having the choice whether he dies or not. Not after what happened to me. This is my fault! It's my fault he's here. I'm the one who has to carry this on my shoulders, not you! I'm telling him today and that's final!”

“Wait, no! Gee!” Pete started but Gerard stormed off towards the stairs.

Mikey knew he should leave, run, move at least, but he was frozen to the spot, his gut twisted in knots as he remembered his parents fighting about him the night he left with Pete. Now he was miles away but the song remained the same, people arguing about Mikey like they know what's best for him.

 _I really should stop eavesdropping,_ Mikey thought to himself as he came face to face with his very pissed off older brother.

Gerard's expression went from anger to shock before settling on a heart-breaking sadness when he saw Mikey. Mikey stared back, his face pale and eyes wide.

“Mikes, how-? I mean, I'm sorry. Just...” Gerard started, stumbling over words but Mikey just stared back between Gerard and Pete, his mind shutting down and going completely blank.

Gerard sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head at the ground.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled, voice low and broken, “I should have told you earlier. Mikey, come with me. It's time you went home.”

 

Mikey followed Gerard and Pete blindly back up stairs. No one said anything but Pete shot sad glances at Mikey that made him feel like his heart was going through a wood chipper.

Once above ground, Pete gathered a meeting of the Lost Boys. Pete sat at the head of the meal table with Gabe, Frank and Gerard down one side and Patrick, Brendon and Ryan down the other, Mikey sitting alone at the opposite end.

For a minute, no body talked, all knowing the subject of the matter was not one that was easily addressed.

Eventually, Gerard cleared his throat and everyone jumped at the sudden noise.

“Mikey, um... there is no easy way of telling you this, so just listen and believe what I tell you. This is important,” Gerard started slowly, his voice seeming so loud in the dead silent room.

“Neverland is basically the afterlife, kind of like heaven, but for those who believe in fairytale more than faith. Basically, where ever you believe you go when you die, you end up there. I mean, it's your soul. Kind of a mind over matter thing; choose your own adventure,” Pete explained, his face completely serious, eyebrows furrowed like every word he said physically hurt him.

“I'm... I'm dead?” Mikey breathed, feeling numb, as though he wasn't in his own body but watching the tragedy play out from far away.

“Well, no. Not really. You just... You took so many pills that night and maybe you would have been fine if you had eaten something before but...” Gerard paused as his voice cracked. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing. “Mom came in to check on you before she went to bed and at first she just thought you were asleep. She tried to wake you but you wouldn't wake and...” Gerard rambled, his words rushed and breathless, his eyes glassy with tears. “They got you to hospital in time but your insides were pretty fucked up.”

“You're in a coma,” Pete finished, his eyes closed and head bowed.

Mikey didn't know what to say, he felt nothing and everything, he didn't understand, he _couldn't_ understand. He only blinked at Pete and nodded slowly.

“That's why you looked so confused when I said I'd wake up. I just thought I was dreaming. But you knew, all along...” Mikey's voice sounded small.

“But Mikey, you still have a choice! You can go back and keep on living!” Gerard explained, “that's more than some of us ever had.”

Around the table, some of the boys exchanged sad looks and nods.

“Or you can stay with us. Forever! You can be a lost boy and never grow up and be with Gerard, with _me!”_ Pete said brokenly, a pleading expression on his face.

“What happens if I do?” Mikey asked but Gerard instantly shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“Mikey. Don't. Mom and Dad already lost me, they can't lose you too,” he whispered, his head down, a curtain of black hair hiding the tears which continued to fall.

“Did you have a choice?” Mikey questioned Gerard, though he dreaded the answer.

There was a long a silence before Gerard breathed out an almost inaudible, “Yes.”

Mikey's gut twisted and he felt as though he was being ripped apart.

“You chose to die. You chose to leave me alone?” Mikey spoke, his words dangerously low and even.

“I was wrong! I made a mistake! I didn't think it would hurt you so much! How was I to know? I'm so sorry! It's my fault you're here! This was all my fault...” Gerard sobbed, curling in on himself.

“At least you had a choice!” Ryan spoke suddenly, standing up with such force, he knocked over his stool.

Everyone turned to look at Ryan, startled.

“I was driving with my dad to the beach once in the summertime when dad swerved to avoid a bird and lost control. When I found my way back after waking up here, in Neverland, I found a wreck where my father used to be. He was alcoholic and he'd beat my mother and he blamed himself. If I had the choice I would have lived, would have told him it wasn't his fault. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was just some freak accident!”

Everyone around the table was silent as Ryan sat down, no one meeting anybody's eyes.

“So, you're all dead?” Mikey asked quietly.

Beside Ryan, Brendon stood up, his face pained.

“I was bashed to death and left in a dumpster by the boys at my school because I refused to believe in God like my parents wanted me to. I was forced to attend a Christian boys school and when they found out I was gay, they cornered me once after school and... I never wanted to die, I just wanted to be accepted, but I never had the choice,” he trailed off and Patrick replaced him, hovering above his stool at eye level to everyone.

“I was in the library one day when there were gun shots and screaming. We tried to keep the shooter out but he shot the door open. All I remember was having the barrel of a shotgun to my head and yelling 'don't shoot', then waking up here five inches tall and sparkling,” he recalled, his wings drooping sadly and his glow grew duller as he spoke.

Frank was the next to stand, looking sympathetic for the others across the table.

“I chose Neverland over living,” he spoke in a low tone, “I was always sick as a kid, I had shitty lungs. One day I woke to Pete telling me I could live without pain and hospitals if I flew away with him. I was just so sick of being sick, but it doesn't mean I didn't regret it. I wasn't thinking straight. But I could have lived. I might have gotten better. My parents were so devastated and broken that they split up. Because of _me!_ And that hurt more than the pneumonia and needles ever did.”

“I chose here too,” Gabe chimed in, standing beside Frank, an entire foot of height between them. “I got so smashed one night at a party. I had taken some shit too, I don't even know what it was. I just though it was all a trip, but by the time I realised what this place really was, it was too late. I left amazing friends behind and I miss them every fucking day. I wish I'd hadn't died, I wish I never left. I wish I'd never gone to that stupid party in the first place. I just want to go home.”

“What about you, Pete?” Mikey asked, dying to know but deep down he knew it was going to be the worst of all.

Pete simply held his arms out in front of him, a sad smile on his broken face.

“Oh Mikey, these scars aren't from battling pirates and playful sword fights. I chose Neverland too, and I'm the only one here that doesn't regret that,” Pete sighed, his brown eyes hollow and dull as he look at Mikey sadly.

Mikey closed his eyes and felt a tear slip out, trailing over his cheek and falling onto his pants. His heart felt like it had grown tired of the pain that this conversation had dealt it and left Mikey completely, leaving an aching hole in its place.

Mikey nodded slowly, wiped his eyes and nodded again.

“Can I have some time... to think about it,” he breathed, looking at the dark spot on this pants that the tear had created.

“Sure! Here, I'll take you-”

“No,” Mikey cut Gerard off. “I need to be alone. Just for a while.”

There was another painfully long pause before Gerard nodded.

“Okay.”

 

~

 

It wasn't until sunset that Mikey heard footsteps in the soft grass behind him. He was sitting out on the edge of the cliffs on the shoreline, his legs dangling over, hanging a dizzyingly long way from the rough tide below. The wind was strong and whipped at Mikey's hair and clothes, making it hard to breathe. It almost carried away the voice that called his name from behind him, but only almost.

“Mikey,” Pete said again, sitting down beside him on the brink.

“Hey,” Mikey sighed in reply, looking at his dirty, bare feet dangling over the edge rather than at the boy beside him.

“Have you decided?” Pete asked, looking over at Mikey.

“Yeah,” Nodded Mikey, picking up a small pebble beside him and lobbing it off the edge, watching it sail down and be swallowed by the whitewashed waves, disappearing below the current.

“And?” Pete poked, his face getting more worried and pained between each silence.

“To die would be an awfully big adventure...” Mikey quoted, his voice carried out over the sea by the wind.

Pete face brightened slightly, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“But I want to go home, Pete,” Mikey whimpered, finally turning to meet Pete's gaze, “I want to go home.”

Pete look hurt, his eyebrows furrowing and he turned to face the ocean, watching the last of the sun fade, the colours cast across the choppy sea disappearing into darkness, the world slowly being swallowed by the night.

“Why?” Was all he said, his voice breaking slightly.

“I can't hurt my parents like that. When I was little, I wanted to grow up to be just like Gerard, now I want to grow up to fulfil the life that he never got to live. I can't keeping living in the shadow of a person that's not there. I need to go home and make everything better. I need to live,” Mikey explained, his mind having settled on a decision after a day of thinking in pure isolation.

“Will you miss me?” Pete mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“Is the day long?” Mikey smiled back, the thought of leaving Neverland hurt more than anything.

“Then stay! Stay with me, with Ger-”

“No, Pete. Take me home. Please,” Mikey pleaded and after a long silence, filled only by the crash of waves and the howling wind ripping through the forest and out over the cliff face, Pete nodded.

“Okay, Mikey. I'll take you home.”

 

~

 

Saying goodbye to Gerard had been the hardest of all but he knew it had to happen. He blinked the memory away and took Pete's hand, taking a deep breathe.

The sterile hospital seemed so alien to Mikey after so much time in the forests of Neverland, but not as alien as finding himself staring down at his own body, full of tubes linking him to machines that he had no idea what they did or how they worked. His body seemed paler and thinner, if that was even possible, he looked so fragile and miserable compared to the ghost of himself standing bedside the bed, grubby and tanned, hand clasped firmly in Pete's. They stood silently, neither of them ready to say goodbye. At some point the door opened and Mikey's mother had walked in, looking as under the weather as the Mikey in the bed did, her hair messy and makeup rushed and smeared.

“Mom!” Mikey yelled happily, waving a hand to get her attention but his mother just sighed, crossing the room to slump into the chair beside Mikey's hospital bed, taking the hand of Mikey's body that his concious version had clutched in Pete's small warm hand.

“You're just a ghost, Mikes. She can't see you. No one can,” Pete stated painfully, gently squeezing Mikey's hand.

“No one ever really could. Not after Gerard left,” Mikey sighed, before nodding, “but they will now.”

“Are you sure you're making the right decision?” Pete asked for about the fourth time that day.

“I'm sure. Cross my heart,” Mikey nodded, though inside he didn't feel sure. Not one bit.

There was a stint of silence again before Mikey sighed, turning to face Pete head on.

“Before you go... I just wanted to... wanted to give you something,” Mikey mumbled, blushing slightly.

“What's that?” Pete asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“A kiss,” Mikey breathed, leaning forwards and capturing Pete's soft mouth, trying to memorise every touch and taste of Pete, not knowing when he'd ever see him again. The way he had to stand on tip toes to kiss Mikey or the soft noises he made when Mikey bit down on his lip.

“Isn't it a little weird making out with a guy right in front of your mom?” Pete mentioned as they pulled apart, a wicked grin on his face.

“Yeah, a little,” Mikey said, making a face as he looked over at his mother, who had promptly fell asleep in the armchair, her head leaning against the mattress of Mikey's bed.

“Now I shall give you a kiss in return,” Pete chimed, his voice sounding kiddish and sweet.

Mikey leaned forwards and closed his eyes, puckering his lips lips in wait of Pete's own but they never came, instead he felt a small hard object being pressed into his palm. Mikey opened his eyes in surprise and raised his open palm to inspect the item, which appeared to be a small acorn. Mikey let out a loud laugh, tucking the 'kiss' into the pocket of his now torn and frayed pyjama pants before wrapping his long arms around Pete, burying his face into neck.

“Thank you. I love it. I love you,” he sighed, not wanting to let go.

“I love you too, Mikeyway,” Pete laughed before pulling away, his smile faltering, “but now it's time to go.”

“All stories must come to an end,” Mikey sighed back, looking at the floor, the moment of happiness gone and the dread of goodbye replacing it.

“Not our story. It's only just beginning, kid,” Pete smiled.

“Ugh, why do you always have to be all cryptic and shit, you idiot,” Mikey laughed.

“Snot nose,” Pete spat back, poking his tongue.

Mikey giggled before regaining his breathe and nodding towards Pete. “Hey, look after my brother for me. Don't let him near the mermaids while I'm gone. He's going to get himself killed and if Neverland is where you go when you die, then I fear the place you go after your double death.”

“Actually, you-” Pete started but Mikey cut him off.

“Shh, no spoilers. Double death would be an awfully big adventure,” Mikey grinned.

“You are the biggest fucking nerd I have ever met and I won't miss you one bit,” Pete huffed, his smile so familiar to Mikey.

“And you are the biggest fucking liar I have ever met and I'll miss you too,” Mikey scoffed, his laughter drowning out the whir and beep on monitoring machines in the small room.

"Hey, Mikes. You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming?" Pete whispered suddenly, stepping closer to Mikey, their faces only inches apart.

Mikey nodded, feeling Pete's breath on his cheek.

"That's where I'll always love you... Micheal Way. That's where I'll be waiting," Pete smiled, a tear slipping from his dark eye.

He leaning in and kissed Mikey one last time, a soft, sweet kiss that seemed to mean more than any other they had shared. _Our last kiss,_ Mikey thought with a twinge of pain.

“Goodnight, Mikeyway,” Pete spoke finally, a hand on Mikey's cheek, “sweet dreams.”

 

~

 

Mrs Way woke to the noise of screaming machines. Her heart clenched in fear, knowing that usually meant something was terribly wrong, but as her sleep ridden eyes focused on her son in the bed she sat beside, her heart flipped then stopped for a moment before going into hyper drive. Mikey's eyes were open and he gagged on the tubes in his throat helping him to breathe. Doctors rushed in within seconds of her slamming the call button, untangling Mikey from the mess of machinery and needles. They had asked Mikey questions about how he felt and how much pain he was in but he ignored them, hunching forwards toward the edge of the bed and wrapping two thin arms around her, a silent sob escaping his throat.

“I'm sorry,” he croaked, his voice shot from not being used for so long.

His mother cried, holding him in her arms until the nurses had to physically pry them apart so they could finish running tests on Mikey.

Mikey still spent some time in hospital, being monitored and tested until he was finally cleared. It wasn't so bad, Mikey had thought, especially at night.

After a few weeks bed rest at home he was allowed back to school, where he improved his grades, particularly in art and joined clubs, albeit the Dungeons and Dragons, Comic and Creative Writing clubs. He made friends for the first time outside of Neverland. He met a tall, long haired boy named William in his English class, who had apparently lost his best friend, Gabe, a year ago to alcohol poisoning. Mikey had told William that Gabe was in a better place now and that he's sure he misses William as much as William misses him.

That night, Mikey went to bed early after dinner, snuggling deep in his brother's old sheets and closing his eyes. He delve in hand into his pocket, smiling as he felt the small, smooth nut within. An acorn.

In that moment between being awake and falling asleep, Mikey thought of Pete and Neverland, of Gerard and the Lost Boys and as he drifted gently into slumber he was promptly thrown out of bed by Pete, a devious smile on his face.

“Bangarang! This is no time to sleep! We have adventuring to do! We only have a few hours until you wake up again!” Pete shouted, dancing around Mikey sprinkling fairy dust on him as he lay on the ground, groaning.

“Three months we've been doing this and you _still_ don't know how to wake me up without mortally wounding me!” Mikey huffed, standing up and pouting at Pete.

“Stop being such a princess,” Pete spat back, stepping closer Mikey, standing on tip toes so he was the same height as Mikey.

“Jerk,” Mikey retorted.

“Snot face,” Pete giggled before leaning in and kissing Mikey, the happiness lifting them both off the ground and man, was that a weird sensation, making out in mid air.

“Come on, I found a really cool cave yesterday, I gotta show you!” Pete blurted out as they pulled apart, tugging Mikey toward the window sill.

“Sounds great,” Mikey laughed.

“But I just gotta remember where it was...” Pete mumbled, scratching his head.

“Second star to the right and straight on till morning?” Mikey sung.

“Not Neverland, you dickhead. The cave!” Pete laughed.

“Oh right, I knew that.”

“You are impossible, you know that.”

“Come on, you're wasting my precious sleeping time.”

“Totally not my fault.”

“Totally is.”

“Shut up, Mikeyway. You wanna do the honours?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Mikey chimed, clearing his throat before bellowing at the top of his lungs as they sailed over the balcony and into the still night air.

 

“ _Here we go_!”

 


End file.
